What's in a Kiss?
by xfphile
Summary: Reflections during a kiss.
1. What's in a Kiss?--Lee

Title: What's in a Kiss? 1/3

Author: xfphile

E-mail: [xfphile@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: G (one swear word)

Archive: If you want to--just let me know.

Summary: Reflections during a kiss.

Time Frame:Second season, during the episode "Ship of Spies."

Disclaimer: The characters of Lee Stetson, Amanda King, Billy Melrose, Francine Desmond and anybody else belong to Shoot the Moon Productions, Warner Brothers, and any other Powers-That-Be. There is no copyright infringement intended.

Feedback is welcomed; flames will be used to cook my dinner.

What's in a Kiss--Lee

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"You may now kiss the bride."

Those were six words I never thought I'd hear, at least not in conjunction with myself. I am a bachelor and quite happy to be that way. But now, as I stare into the warm, trusting brown eyes of Amanda King, I find myself filled with a strange feeling. It feels like . . .anticipation? What the hell? Why is the thought of kissing Amanda making my heart pound and my palms sweat? I take a quick second to analyze my thoughts, but come up with nothing. All I know it that it's something I don't expect and can't explain. I just know that it's here, in my mind, filling me with confusion. 

I glance at the 'preacher' who just married us; he nods and gestures as if to say, 'Get on with it.' I swallow and turn to my partner, releasing the hand I placed an 18-carat wedding ring on not two minutes ago. Her hand slowly falls to her side as she watches my own hands, the left now sporting a plain gold band on its ring finger, steadily rise and take a gentle grip on her veil. 

I notice that my hands are shaking and my eyes widen in surprise. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was nervous. That can't be right, though. It's not like Amanda and I are really married, unless my records have been changed and nobody bothered to inform me that my last name is now Stetsman. I smile very slightly at that thought, proud of my quick thinking and simple but elegant solution. I've kept our covers secure and spared Amanda the pain and embarrassment of a second divorce. 

Whoa! Where did that thought come from? Why do I care about how Amanda would feel if she had to get a divorce from me? A strange sensation suddenly flashes through my mind as I finish my thought. I blink, trying to identify it. All I manage to catch is a fleeting sensation of guilt and an even more illusive glimpse of pain. Behind them both is something else, something I can't make out. 

I give myself a slight mental shake and come back to the present. While I was chasing shadows, my hands had been obeying their initial instructions and raising her veil. Amanda is standing in front of me, looking absolutely beautiful. Of their own volition, my eyes slide over her, taking in the curves partially outlined by the lacy white wedding dress she is wearing. I suddenly catch the direction my thoughts are taking and quickly yank them back to where they belong: the matter of my missing friend Orlando and his mysterious message. Actually, anything that takes them away from Amanda King will do nicely.

Even as I force myself to pull my thoughts away from her, my body begins leaning towards her and my hands fall to her waist. Our eyes meet and behind the trust in hers, I see a trace of fear. For some reason, that bothers me and I smile reassuringly at her, trying to help. She smiles back, but the look in her eyes doesn't change. If anything, her fear increases. I frown slightly, trying to figure out what she's afraid of. As our heads come closer together, I watch her intently, trying to understand her reaction. All at once, understanding hits me in a rare moment of clarity. She's afraid of how I'll react to this kiss. 

As the realization sinks in, I begin to feel offended. Why should she be worried about how I'll react? There's nothing to react to. We're business associates, nothing more. There is no emotional involvement whatsoever between us. This is a cover kiss, nothing more—and nothing less, I am forced to add as my subconscious turns traitor for a moment. I want to kiss her, but it's only because I'm curious about the way she'd react. We've kissed before, when I was posing as Sandy Newcomb, but I don't count that one because I didn't have to kiss her. I just did it to see how she would react.

At the thought of that kiss, I start to breath a little faster. My eyes widen slightly in shock as I feel my own reaction to something that isn't even an issue. I release my breath and tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer to me. She senses the change in my mood and shoots a questioning glance at me, silently asking if everything is okay. I let my eyes answer for me, telling her yes, everything is fine. She acknowledges it and then lets her beautiful brown eyes close, tilting her face up to mine at the same time.

Her breathing gets faster and I can feel her trembling. That's how close we are. To my stunned disbelief, I discover that I am shaking, too. I fight to curb my body's reaction and manage to bring it under control. Our lips are mere centimeters apart now and I take one last look at her face before closing my own eyes. A split second later, our lips meet. 

To be continued . . .

   [1]: mailto:xfphile@yahoo.com



	2. What's in a Kiss?--Amanda

Title: What's in a Kiss? 2/3

Author: xfphile

E-mail: [xfphile@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: G

Archive: If you want to--just let me know.

Summary: Reflections during a kiss.

Time Frame:Second season, during the episode "Ship of Spies."

Disclaimer: The characters of Lee Stetson, Amanda King, Billy Melrose, Francine Desmond and anybody else belong to Shoot the Moon Productions, Warner Brothers, and any other Powers-That-Be. There is no copyright infringement intended.

Feedback is welcomed; flames will be used to cook my dinner.

What's in a Kiss--Amanda

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You may now kiss the bride."

Wow. It's been a long time since I've heard those words. Well, at least in relation to myself. Nearly ten years, in fact. And now, the man they're being said to is my partner, Lee Stetson. Tall, light, and handsome Lee. For a moment, I permit myself the luxury of believing that this is real, that Lee really cares about me. However, I allow the illusion for only a few seconds before coming back to reality. 

I watch Lee as he looks away from me to glance at the 'preacher' who just married us. The gentleman nods and gestures in a kind-of 'get on with it' way and Lee turns back to me. He releases my left hand—the one he adorned with a wedding ring less than two minutes ago—and slowly brings his hands up to my veil. My hand falls to my side and I try not to notice how cold it seems without him holding it. 

I catch sight of his left hand and am mesmerized by the flash of the gold ring I just put on his finger. I can't help but think about how right it looks there. I find myself pointing out to myself that the golden brown tones of his skin set off the rich gold of his new ring and the white tux he is wearing is a perfect complement to the simple but elegant jewelry. I quickly catch my thoughts and pull them back to where they should be—the case that Lee's friend is involved in—and chide myself for slipping. I just hope that Lee didn't notice the direction my thoughts were taking; he has a disconcerting habit of doing that and I don't want to irritate him by making him deal with anything involving emotions.

I look into Lee's beautiful hazel eyes and catch my breath. He is staring at me intently, his eyes almost green in the light. I gaze back at him, trying to decipher his look. His eyes suddenly close for a brief second and when he opens them again, his walls are firmly in place. I suppress a sigh and concede defeat. It's so annoying sometimes—I mean, the man can read me like a book (and does), but he has defenses that the President would be envious of. It puts me at a rather unfair advantage, which I also find irritating. 

I come out of my thoughts as I realize that he has gotten my veil all the way over my head. He is staring at me again and the look he is giving me has me hard-pressed not to take a step backwards. My eyes drop to his beautifully shaped lips and a little chill shoots through me. It's not fear, though. No, this chill is one of anticipation. I want to kiss him. Even if it's just for cover, even if he feels nothing, I want to kiss him. 

I've been attracted to Lee from the beginning. Who wouldn't be? Lee, with his tall, muscular body, that thick, light brown hair, those perfectly chiseled features, and his gorgeous hazel eyes, is one of the best looking men I have ever seen (I don't know, though—Cary Grant is awful sexy). He's gorgeous, he's knows it, and he uses it to every advantage he can. At first, I found his constant stream of women childish, but after about eight months, I realized that they were his way of protecting himself. 

I don't know much about his past—he tends to be a very secretive person. It must be some unspoken rule in the spy business. Anyway, to put it mildly, he's not very forthcoming about himself. I _do_ know that his parents were killed when he was a little boy and that his military uncle raised him. I know that his last partner was killed by a bullet meant for Lee, and I know that he once loved a woman who ultimately betrayed him. All of those experiences have definitely scarred him, and those are just the ones I know about. Who knows what else he has buried in his mind? 

The feel of his hands on my waist startles me and I blink, trying to think of a reason why Lee would be touching me like that. My eyes land on his lips and a sudden thrill of fear runs through me as I remember what we're about to do. I know that I'm not going to be able to stop myself from reacting to his kiss and I'm afraid of what he'll do when it happens. Not that he would ever hurt me—not physically, anyway. Emotionally . . .well, I really can't blame him. He hasn't had much experience with emotion and what little he has been exposed to hasn't left a good impression on him. Everyone he's ever cared about has left him in some way or another. That would be enough to sour anybody. 

Even so, I don't relish what will happen later, after we finish this case. I know he won't like it if I respond to him and he'll say something snide, trying to keep from having to feel. I heave an internal sigh and look in his eyes again, only to catch my breath in shock. Our faces are extremely close together and he is watching me, concern obvious in his look. He smiles and offers reassurance with his gaze; I smile back, but it is forced and my earlier fear intensifies. He senses it and frowns slightly. His eyes never waver, but as I watch, they change. His concern is replaced by something else, something darker. His hands suddenly tighten around my waist and he pulls me closer. 

I look directly into two green-tinged hazel pools and silently ask if he's okay. His eyes answer for him. They tell me yes, he's fine and everything's okay. I acknowledge his answer and finally succumb to the inevitable. Tilting my head, I close my eyes and wait. After forever and fifteen minutes, our lips meet.

To be continued . . . 

   [1]: mailto:xfphile@yahoo.com



	3. What's in a Kiss?

Title: What's in a Kiss? 3/3

Author: xfphile

E-mail: [xfphile@yahoo.com][1]

Archive: If you want to--just let me know.

Rating: G 

Summary: Reflections during a kiss.

Time Frame:Second season, during the episode "Ship of Spies."

Disclaimer: The characters of Lee Stetson, Amanda King, Billy Melrose, Francine Desmond and anybody else belong to Shoot the Moon Productions, Warner Brothers, and any other Powers-That-Be. There is no copyright infringement intended.

Feedback is welcomed; flames will be used to cook my dinner.

What's in a Kiss?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As my lips meet hers, I can't help but be affected by the moment. Her lips are soft, her breath sweet, and it's all I can do to keep myself from reacting to her. Forcibly reminding myself that I don't care for Amanda King takes most of my concentration, but it also prevents me from giving in to my body and kissing her the way I really want to.

With a near-Herculean effort, I keep my mind on business and manage to ignore the enticing mouth beneath mine. After about ten seconds pass, I deem it time to end this little charade and get back to my case. I firmly but gently pull my mouth from hers and lean back. 

* * *

Oh, my gosh. Lee Stetson is kissing me. Well, not really. Not in the sense of a real 'we just got married and need to get a room kiss.' It's more like a . . .it's really more like a friendly kiss. Now, I've heard all the talk about Scarecrow around the water cooler, so I know he can do better than this; I also know that he won't. And, even though I was expecting his lack of response, I'm surprised to feel disappointment wash through me. In the very back of my mind, I had hoped that he would forget who he was for a few brief moments. Silly me. 

His lips are firm and business-like above mine and his mind is obviously elsewhere. I fight back the hurt that accompanies that realization and focus on controlling my own response. Since he so obviously feels nothing, I have no reason to feel anything either. I do have a nearly over-powering urge to rattle his suave, secret-agent exterior, though. He's not paying any attention to me and I can't help but wonder what he'd do if I just let go and kissed him the way I wanted to. Feeling a grin start to form on my lips, I prepare to pull away from him. He beats me to the punch and gently lifts his mouth off of mine as he leans back.

* * *

I finish pulling away from Amanda and am about to start disengaging myself from our 'husband and wife' embrace when something makes me stop. My gaze meets hers for the briefest of seconds, but when shame washes through me, I drop my eyes. Even as I do it, I am mentally raging at myself. 

What am I doing? Why am I ashamed? Amanda and I are not involved, we're not _going _to be involved, and this isn't real! Okay. So why am I so bothered? And why do I have this uncontrollable urge to lean in and kiss her again—and I mean _really _kiss her? 

I don't have an answer for my second question, but my body takes care of the physical solution and leans back over to her. Quickly realizing the futility of trying to stop what is going to happen, I close my eyes and take back command of my body. My lips hover over hers for a second that is so brief it's undetectable and in that one moment, I am free. Right now, in this place and time, I am not Scarecrow, government agent and consummate ladies' man. In this instant, I am Lee Stetson.

My lips settle over hers again and I relish in the softness of her mouth and sweet taste of her breath. Her lips are pliant beneath mine and I am sorely tempted to exploit that willingness and let my tongue gently enter her mouth and discover the secrets there. Unfortunately, as much as I want to, I can't. Lee's all-too-brief appearance is curtailed as Scarecrow pushes his way back into the limelight. I gently pull my mouth away from hers. We look at each other for a minute-long eternity before I take a step back, removing myself from the danger zone.

My mind is reeling and doesn't know what to think. On one side, it greatly enjoyed what just happened and wouldn't mind in the least doing it again. On the other, more prevalent side, horror is the overriding emotion and it is to that portion of my brain that I subscribe to. I absent-mindedly offer her my arm; she accepts it and we start back down the aisle. I am still grappling with what I just did and I don't notice anything until we reach the refreshment tables. The sight of champagne brings me back and I gratefully grab two glasses, handing one to my 'bride' before taking a long, steadying drought of mine. Fleetingly, I wish it were scotch instead of champagne, but this vintage is good and I shrug off my desire as I absently respond to something she said. 

Well, I shrug off my desire for a stronger drink, anyway. Getting rid of my wish to kiss Amanda again isn't as easy. I lose myself in the memory of how she tasted when something she is saying catches my attention and I drag myself back to the case. With a mental sigh, I put my internal musings on hold for the time being and concentrate my full attention on sorting through the ramble she just presented me with. 

As we start to head to the 'honeymoon car' that will take us to the pier where our ship is docked, though, somewhere in the back of mind, a voice whispers, "Someday, Amanda. Someday . . ."

* * * 

He's staring at me again. I wish he wouldn't do that. It's unnerving and—why did he just look down? Oh, no, did he feel something in my kiss? I tried not to react, I really did—but it was so hard. Oh, I hope I didn't just ruin everything. Drat, I knew this was a bad idea. Now he—

The feel of his mouth covering mine cuts off my train of thought. I almost gasp at the sensation of his soft—but firm—lips as they move gently over mine. 

Oh. My. Gosh.

Lee Stetson is kissing me. He's really kissing me. There are so many things I should be thinking about right now, but the only word that comes to my mind is 'Wow!' Even this gentle, tender kiss is enough to overwhelm my senses and I spare a brain cell to be grateful that he's not asking for anything more. I'm not sure I'd refuse him. For that matter, I'm sure I _could _refuse him. Before I can continue that line of thought, I feel him gently pull away.

We stare at each other for a timeless moment before he offers me his arm. I absently take it, my thoughts focused on what just happened between us. I knew that Lee Stetson had just kissed me; I also know that it is Scarecrow's arm I now hold. Covertly watching him out of the corner of my mind, I see him arguing with himself and let out an inaudible sigh. Regret fills my mind as I realize that when this case is over, I'll get 'The Speech' again.

We reach the refreshment tables and he hands me a glass of champagne. I accept it and take a sip, watching with amusement as he chugs his like he hasn't seen liquid in a week. I stare thoughtfully at him, wondering if that kiss had affected him as well. Six minutes ago, I would have said no, but now . . .

His comment about my wedding ring suddenly registers and I push everything but the case to the one side. He asks me something and I respond with my usual enthusiasm, hoping that he doesn't notice my momentary distraction. He steps back from the table and gestures for me to precede him. I take one last sip of my champagne, put the glass on the table, and walk past him. He finishes his own drink, puts his glass next to mine, and falls into step beside me. We begin discussing the case again and I shove my wonderings into the nether regions of my mind. 

The masks of Scarecrow and Mrs. King fall back into place, but as we head to the car that will take us back to the ship, a voice in the back of my mind murmurs, "It will happen, Lee. Someday . . ."

Finis

   [1]: mailto:xfphile@yahoo.com



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